Posts Tagged With: ghosts

At lunch on Friday, Wendell and Clint insisted that Tim, Alan and I spend the night at Wendell’s. They ignored all of our questions about the evening except one, by far the most important question, one that would sway even the fiercest fence-sitter: yes, Wendell’s mom would be ordering pizza.

That night, we found Clint and Wendell in the garage busy at work with assorted tools and what looked to be leftover slats from a picket fence. As Wendell sawed down every other slat, Clint joined them to longer pieces with nails of varying length with equally varying accuracy.

“Yeah!” Alan yelled out, taking up one of the finished pieces. “Swords!”

Wendell grabbed the wooden sword, flipped it and handed it it back. “It’s a cross.”

“Happy birthday, Gary! I saw this place and remembered how much you liked wooden swords. Go ahead and pick one out!”

“Whatta we need crosses for?” Tim asked.

“For tonight,” Wendell answered, trying on the smile villains deliver when they’ve finally captured the hero. When villains did it, it was sinister and ominous, but Wendell looked like he was in need of a gallon of bicarbonate. “You’ll see.”

.

Not since the day Molly Johnson’s training bra had been visible beneath a sheer top had there been such a buzz in class. As the morning began, the first thing any of us saw were the words ‘Field Trip’ written on the chalkboard. Now, regardless if you were a straight A student or a straight D delinquent, field trips were like golden tickets to the Wonka factory. Even if our worst fears were realized and the trips turned out to be educational, it never mattered. It still meant piling into a bus and eating our lunches someplace other than Idlewild. It was like furlough from a work camp, a chance to see how the outside world worked between the hours of 8 and 3 everyday, a free sick day without having to secretly put the thermometer next to a lightbulb.

“Dont worry, Stevie. I’m gonna make sure the teacher takes us on a field trip, this year.”